


Craving a gentle touch

by Eriathalia



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Dream Sex, F/M, first time writing porn (sort of), touch starved Luke, very vivid dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 16:02:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6086001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eriathalia/pseuds/Eriathalia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rey's appearance on his island wakes long buried feelings in Luke, resulting in a rather vivid dream. Or is it a dream?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm delving into unknown waters with this little piece.  
> Bear with me please *runs off to hide*

During the time of his exile on Ahch-To Luke has come to know solitude like a second nature. He sees it as both salvation and punishment. On the one hand there is a feeling of not deserving to be included into society anymore, given that he is responsible for the deaths of so many, dragging them into demise by his hopeful idea of restoring the Jedi order to its former strength.

But it is also a cure for his wounded spirit. Depriving himself of human contact--or any contact at all for that matter--also means not having to face judgement. He does not have to look into the faces of the ones left behind and see the disappointment, the accusations, hatred even. It is, in the end, the easier way out.

All the more he is taken aback when he senses the presence of another being on his forlorn island, even more so as he can feel his own spirit reacting to it instantly, drawn to whomever he may find.

It has always been his blessing and a curse at the same time to be hyper sensitive to even minute changes in the force. It has often helped him recognize dangers long before they became apparent, thus giving him the chance to turn the tide in their favor.

Only once has his ability to forsee future events failed him. That one occasion though, has cost him dearly.

His senses have been dulled ever since, additionally shut off by keeping his distance, hiding in this ancient temple, its location unknown to any other.

When he left behind the map to this place, it was out of hope to be found and redeemed one day. Now that the time has come to prove his worth once again, he dreads his decision all the more.

Now there is another standing behind him, effectively cutting off his way back, the path in front of him only leading off a cliff.

Luke's nerves tingle, shivers running down his back as he feels the first pull of need for human contact taking over. He hates himself for being too weak to resist, but steels himself for what is to come, detaching his feelings from his consciousness, burying them in the farthest depths of his mind.

The girl standing there, hand outstretched towards him, holding the very lightsaber he had assumed lost for decades, is beautiful in every aspect. Her dark hair is shining in the light of the slowly setting sun, hazel eyes clear and focused on him, an uncertain smile on her lips.

Slowly, carefully, he reaches out to take the sabre from her hand, mindful not to touch her skin, even if it is merely with the cold metal of his prosthetic.

"How did you come upon this?" he asks, inspecting his old weapon intently. It is well worn by age. He can recall most of the scratches along the surface, the battles they were witness of, the lifes they saved together and those which had to be taken in order to uphold the balance of powers in the galaxy.

"A friend gave it to me. She said it was calling out to me." The girl adds after a few moments of hesitation "It was yours once, wasn't it?"

He nods silently. It takes him all his willpower to stay still, not give in to the call of closeness, the promise of a soft touch.

So lost in his own thoughts is he, that her approaching his unmoving form goes unnoticed until there is a light pressure on his shoulder.

It is all he can do not to flinch, his nerves set on fire, overly sensitive from the lack of basic affection for decades.

Gently he pushes her hand away, relaxing as the distance helps him to control the urge to demand too much of an innocent woman.

Her face falls, the rejection obvious in her eyes. Secretly he wonders if this sensation of being drawn to her is returned, making it a mutual appearance. Luke shakes the notion off, deeming it nothing more than a trick of his imagination brought forth by the possibility of simple comfort.

"Come" He motions her to follow, the distraction enough to fight down the warmth that has begun to spread through his insides due to their brief contact.

Like an obedient subject she follows his steps, back to the place he has come to call home for the last years.

It means taking a high risk to let her in on his sanctuary, but the good and loving man inside him cannot bring himself to send her away for the sole reason of detaching his own existence from any other again.

And yet, come nighttime, he lays in his bed wide awake, every fibre of his body on edge.

He has found her to be bright, charming, with a sense of humor as well as a fundamental need for justice and a spirit as pure and open as he has ever met. Luke finds that her personality perfectly matches her outside, untainted by evil. And above all he could sense the tentative beginnings of a deeper connection forming, far beyond anything which soon to be teacher and student are supposed to experience.

He wants it, craves it, aches for it every second, unable to release the tension as they part for the night. Her presence brushes against his own, licks at the corners of his consciousness, burning him with such intensity he barely is able to lay still.

Before his eyes there is only her face, smiling as they make pleasant conversation, falling into a pattern of familiarity so easily, just as if they were meant to be all along.

Soon the visions warp into different images, the ghosts of touches as her lips brush his own, follow a trail along his jaw and neck, nuzzling the junction to his shoulder.

He arches his back, giving himself over to the sensations as he loses the strength to fight the dream, incarnation of what he has longed for all of his life.

Truthfully, he has had clear offers in the past, back when he was still young and full of the will and energy to live life to its fullest, a bright smile constantly lighting up his face. Still he turned them all down in his way of abiding the rules of the Jedi order, instead dreaming of a future without war, finding a family in the midst of his students, achieving a feeling of belonging.

Those were singlehandedly destroyed by one young man whom he had loved like his own son, who was in fact part of his real family, bearing both his sister's pride and intelligence, as much as his friend's mischievous, troublesome streak.

All of it is gone now, the dreams shattered and dead, hope broken, seemingly impossible to rebuild.

It is his reason for giving in, letting the dream take over, accepting the momentary reprieve from all the troubles life has in store.

His sleeping robe parts, baring his chest to the chilly air, cooling his flushed and heated skin. The ghostly lips wander lower, exploring the planes of his chest, then latch on to one sensitive nub while warm fingers start playing with the other. It makes him cry out, back arching even further, his hips rocking upwards, instinctively searching for any kind of friction.

Luke could swear he can hear a chuckle by his hear, feel gusts of warm breath against it as another hand wanders lower, fingernails lightly scratching his stomach, teasing, leaving him a boneless and panting mess, sheets dampening from his sweat.

It takes all of his willpower to move, grasp for the form above him which the dream supplies so vividly he is tempted to believe it is indeed reality.

His hands tangle in long hair, drawing his dream partner's head down, lips and tongues getting caught in a passionate dance, licking and tasting and nipping, drawing out moans and gasps and hisses.

He loses every concept of time as it goes on and on, the weight of another body pressing him into the mattress, sliding against his own, setting his senses on overload.

His fingers are led down to a wet heat, beckoned to move in a steady rhythm, causing noises of pleasure, tiny mewls, inbetween kisses all along his upper body.

The ache between his legs is building higher and higher, begging for release and when his fingers are removed from their task, the heat instead engulfing his member, squeezing it almost painfully, his control slips, hips moving on their own accord as he sinks into the velvety void over and over, his throat feeling sore from shouting.

Luke doesn't know how long it lasts, the world blurring, muted and drowned out to two voices lost in the throes of pleasure.

And then, suddenly, it is over, his body going limp as he drowns in the waves of his climax, pressing as close as possible to the one above and around him, barely aware of her shivering as she follows him down into the abyss.

He wraps around her afterwards, falling into an exhausted but peaceful slumber, insistent on holding on to the dream for as long as he can.

When next he regains consciousness in the early hours of morning it is to silken strands of hair tickling his cheek and the warm form of the girl curled up against his chest, smiling contently in her sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after...

Luke’s breath is hitching as he takes in the sleeping girl beside him, warm and tangible and real.  
He blinks a few times, trying to shake off the seemingly lingering dream. It doesn't help, the sight won't change.  
Raising a shaking hand he touches her cheek ever so gently, confusion evident in his features. His mind still rebels to take in the truth, still insists this cannot be true.  
And yet his fingers are tracing warm flesh, as soft as velvet.  
It sends waves of shivers down his spine, his stomach flipping as a new burst of pleasure takes a hold of him, his own body still overly sensitive, instinctively reacting to her closeness.  
He wants to kiss her again, share the immense sensations threatening to overwhelm him. There is so much he could give if only he had the chance. But who would ever want him, the cowardly Jedi with senses so clouded he did not even see certain disaster staring him right into his face?

Quickly he covers his mouth as a sob is about to pass over his lips, barely able to muffle it against his palm. Luke wants it and yet it seems so wrong. How can he take advantage of an innocent woman seeking him out to learn the ways of the Jedi? How can he impose his uncontrollable needs upon this perfect, beautiful being laying beside him, so trusting and vulnerable. It goes against any of his morals and still they had--unbeknownst to him-- shared a greater intimacy than he thought himself capable of experiencing.

Tears spring to his eyes as his spirit is weighed down by the realization that his lack of self-restraint has doomed both of them, tainted her in a way that no man should ever have dared to attempt.  
Where should they go from here? How was he supposed to be a good master when all he would see in her eyes was disgust and rejection.  
And if she turns her back on him and leaves it will merely be proof he has failed the galaxy even so, singlehandedly destroying the only chance to bring back balance by his sheer selfishness.

Frantically he curls up on himself, not yet ready, but expecting the impending fallout. 

What he feels instead are gentle fingers brushing aside a strand of his hair, a hand coming to rest between his shoulder blades, seeking to soothe his shaking frame.

Luke squeezes his eyes shut, trying to fend off the new dream invading his senses.  
The hand wanders from his back, instead applying pressure to his shoulder, turning him to face the truth.  
There is no anger or dismay, no distance or hatred, only a deep tenderness and affection as their eyes meet, bright blue ones connecting with hazel orbs, keeping him captive in the moment. 

No words are spoken as she leans down, kisses away his tears, then meets his lips softly, unhurriedly.  
And he gives in, reaches for the chance presented to him, hands roaming her bare back, feeling her shiver at the contact of cold metal with sensitive skin.

They kisses soon turn from soft and gentle to passionate, his beard scratchy upon her chin.  
They only part for the need of air, faces flushed, panting, before meeting again, pushing against each other, lips and teeth nipping, tasting, taking in all they can as they start to wander.  
He licks his way up to her ear, carefully biting the lobe, drawing a tiny noise of pleasure from her. It is permission enough to explore further downwars, hands brushing her bosom, lips following in their wake, covering them in kisses until she is a writhing mess, whispering her delight insistently, urging him on.

Luke doesn't know why, but something guides his every move, covering his inexperience with confidence, making up for all his insecurity, her reactions spurring him on in his desire to give back everything he had received the night before and then some more. He wants her to feel special, loved, cherished, wants to prove that he is worthy of her affection, hopes that a miracle will convince her to stay by his side.  
/Please/ He starts, the voice so clear and yet he knows the words have not been spoken out loud.  
Silently he obliges, touching her where her own figers had lead him before. She arches into his touch, asking for more of his attention and he is willing to give her all he has, his tongue lapping at the small bundle of nerves, leaving her gasping and panting, hands grabbing the sheets tight enough to make her knuckles appear white under the stretched skin.  
/Join me. I want this/ He nods, breathlessly, aligning himself with her entrance, then thrusting forward, barely able to hold himself up as he is hit by a new wave of pleasure. 

They find a rhythm easy enough, exchanging hungry kisses all the while. Her legs are wrapped around his hips, effectively holding him in place, beckoning him to go on, faster and deeper, until they stumble over the edge together.

She holds his face afterwards, eyes wide and clear and full of wonder. He stares back, both uncertain and hopeful.  
/I love you/ It is all he needs to hear, his heart feeling light and afloat on currents of happiness.  
/Will you stay?/  
She smiles. /Yes./


End file.
